Alexander, Last of the 300
by graggen2468
Summary: An old Spartan named Alexander finds himself thrown into the Warhammer 40k universe, where he is no longer the greatest warrior of mankind. His political idealism and hatred of Roman customs changes the Imperium forever, as people begin to talk of a revolution that will actually work.
1. Chapter 1

Thermopylae Pass, 480 B.C.

Alexander was having the worst day of his life.

Wave after wave of Persians crashed into the Spartan phalanx, slaughtering themselves in droves. He loved and hated it: the sound of battle, the rush of the excitement of being in the middle of the fray, and the sound of people as they died. But then there was the regret. He was ending men's lives; men with wives and children and hopes for their future. However, if they dared threaten threaten his family, then they had to die. Sometimes they died honorably: silently and with true belief in their cause in their eyes. Most, however, just screamed in pain. For the past three days, a force of 7,000 Greek soldiers had held Thermopylae against the Persian Empire, though only a thousand remained, including all 300 of his fellow Spartans. The rest had fled, so that they could fight another day. Today, Alexander was placed in front, fighting next to bold Leonidas, king of Sparta himself. An immortal ran at him, screaming praise for his emperor. Easy prey. The soldier bounced off of his huge, bronze shield and tripped. Alexander moved quickly. The Persian attempted to stab the Spartan in the heart, but his homemade dagger bounced off of his armor. It was funny to Alexander to let them try, but then it was his turn. Using his shield as a club, Alexander smashed him to the ground and stabbed his spear through the man's neck, killing him instantly. A quick death. Lucky. Five more came at him, but they were no match. Alexander swung his spear in a deadly arc around him, slicing two Immortals in half. The third came at Alexander, but he casually stepped aside, tripping the dead man over his sandal. He was stabbed before he hit the ground. Number four was more hesitant than his fellow soldiers, but just as doomed. He swung at Alexander's head, but he ducked, and to give this fortunate man a dramatic, legendary death, he kicked him off the edge of the cliff while yelling, "SPARTA!" The fifth Persian turned and ran, and Alexander was about to mock his cowardice when 10,000 Persian Immortals smashed into the Greek's rear, breaking the Spartans' impenetrable phalanx. Alexander gripped his spear and groaned; today was going to suck.

The Persians surrounded the last two Spartans, shouting, "Victory!" Alexander gritted his teeth and yelled out in his best Persian,

"Hey! We're not quite dead yet!"

"Shut up! I'm trying to enjoy the last few minutes of my life here." Acacius stood with his spear broken at his feet with his sword drawn, and about 50 dead Persians before him.

"Come on, cowards! Fight us!" Shouted Alexander. With that, the Persians rushed the warriors. Alexander became the incarnation of Ares himself; never halting his eternal dance of death. He was not even thinking. He was watching himself slice, parry, stab, repeat. This went on until the sea of soldiers parted, making way for their general, an ornately dressed man who seemed to radiate power.

The General looked at the two rebels. In the name of order, he had to finish them, even though they had both fought bravely. If they didn't conquer Greece, Europe would be endangered by Chaos and the forces that stood for it. The Persian Empire was a bulwark against the daemons of the warp. How could nobody see that? With that thought in mind, he drew his sword and swung it at the Spartan's head. Though a skilled warrior, the Greek was exhausted, and couldn't move quickly enough to block. The General's blade connected with the boy's neck, slicing his head clean off.

Alexander watched in disbelief as his friend fell before The General. They had known each other since birth. They had trained together, played together and fought together. And now this man took that away. Alexander, tired as he was, lifted his spear and shield. This sucker was going to die.

When the Spartan charged The General, he was amused. No one could stand before his fighting skill and survive. This was going to be a quick fight.

6 hours later

The General parried another blow from the rebel's sword, barely. With each swing, he got closer and closer to wounding him. _Who is this guy?_ He wondered. Once more, The General focused his mind. The power of the Warp flowed in his veins, and he released it, sending lightning from his mind towards his seemingly unbeatable foe. But he blocked it with his shield and kept advancing, with a cold rage over his face. His eyes burned bright blue, and The General thanked the gods that looks could not kill. Again he came, yelling in his barbaric tongue. He blocked the Greek's stab returning it with one of his own, but he rolled away and elbowed The General in chest. Pain exploded in the place where he was hit, but Alexander was not finished, following it up by a shield bash to the head. Luckily, The General blocked a majority of the force with a mind shield, but he still hit the ground. Hard.

Alexander stood over the general of the Persians. He was an honorable opponent, and his power suggested that he himself was a god. Imagine that! Alexander, last of the 300, god slayer. He liked the sound of it. They would tell his legend for generations to come.

"You killed my best friend. Now you must die." He raised his sword to kill the General, but an arrow struck him in the neck. It was impossible for him to breathe. Alexander was drowning in his own blood. He struggled against his fate, but eventually, everything went black.

The General stood up, though it was very difficult with a broken leg. _That Spartan was the most skilled warrior I have ever seen!_ Thought the General. _And his resistance to warp energy may suggest that he is resistant to the temptations of daemons!_ _I may have use of him._ The General once again focused himself. He had never brought someone back from the dead, and with his injuries, he himself would nearly be dead afterwards.

Alexander gasped for breath. He was alive! He tried to sit up, but a sudden headache pounded his brain, and he had to lie back down. At least, he thought, I can observe my surroundings. He was in a tent, a richly decorated one. By the looks of it, it was Persian. Before he could find his weaponry, however, the General walked in. Alexander tensed.

"Are you going to kill me like this?" Alexander asked.

"No, in fact, I have decided to let you live, for one reason."

"And what would that be?" Alexander's mind raced. Was he going to be a slave? A Persian soldier who would be sent to his death? Wait, but, first off, how in the name of Zeus was he still alive. _It must be his powers._ He thought. _If that demigod can shoot lightning from his head, he would have the ability to bring me back from Hades._

_"No, you are_ not going to be any of those.,". Replied the General. "No, your destiny is much more glorious."

Alexander sat up. This man can read minds!

"I'm listening."

"We humans are only one of the many races in the galaxy. Tell me, do you know what the galaxy is?"

Alexander knew this galaxy term only by a stroke of luck. A lost Athenian astronomer accidentally stumbled into Sparta a few years ago. Alexander listened to one of his lectures before the "womanly scholar" was laughed out of the city.

"Good! Well, there is another reality that exists that is called the Warp, and in the Warp daemons live, daemons who wish to corrupt humanity. Some people, like me, can use the warp to focus their mind to achieve godlike powers, and even immortality. It is our type's job to help humanity from falling into chaos. And quite honestly, I need your help. Your fighting skill is incredible and with it, you can fight daemons. Also, when I brought you back from the dead, some of my power, and part of my being, was transferred to you. So we technically are brothers! So, brother, do you wish to help me save humanity? Together we will be a bulwark against chaos, until one day we will purge the Warp for good! Do you accept?

Alexander's head was spinning. Daemons and other worlds and immortality and losing and gaining a brother, all in one day! He wanted to return home, to Sparta, to say goodbye to his parents. However, Alexander knew this would never happen. He would be considered a coward for fleeing from battle, and even if the Council did believe his story, he would be a freak and a witch. No, he had no choice. This was his destiny.

"I accept...brother," Alexander added hesitantly.

"Good! Exclaimed The General. Together we're gonna change everything!


	2. Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 1787

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

Year: 1787

"The second Constitutional Convention will now come to order," said George Washington. People stopped complaining about the sweltering heat to begin discussing the fate of the United States. "Now that we have decided to draft a constitution, we need to decide how long this president will reside in office." Washington looked to Thomas Jefferson, who was now listening intently.

_I don't like what you're doing here_. He thought.

_I know, but we must take direct control if humanity is to be saved._

_Humanity must save itself, brother! I will not have you becoming dictator of the world!_

The General looked at Alexander (Jefferson). He had not changed at all in physical appearance, with olive skin and jet-black hair. For a man born millennia before, he was incredibly tall for his generation; about six foot three in height. Though lately they had been coming to blows. This mental conversation was an example of their ideological disagreement.

_I think that ever since you were Jesus, something changed inside of you, brother. I think you liked how they worship you as a god. The power has gotten to your head. _

_It's too late now Alexander. And then Washington stood up._

"I nominate that the president serve for life!" A chorus of, "here heres!" Followed.

_No!_ Alexander thought. Luckily, it was 6 o'clock; the convention was over for the day. "I nominate that we discuss this tomorrow, with clear heads." Everyone except for Washington agreed. The General came up to Alexander as they walked out into the hot sun on their way back to their house.

"Very clever, brother, but you are only delaying the inevitable."

Alexander smiled back. "Over my dead body." And you of all people you know brother, I don't go down so easily."

Later that night, Alexander decided to pay a visit to Ben Franklin. He walked up the steps to his apartment and knocked on the door.

"One moment, please!" The door opened a moment later, revealing the old man.

"Ah, Mr. Jefferson! What a surprise!"

"Sorry that I don't have time for pleasantries, Mr. Franklin, but this is urgent. What I am about to tell you could alter the course of this country."

Benjamin walked slowly inside and sat down on a stool.

"Firstly, you must tell the following information to your fellow Masons attending the Convention. Tonight."

Franklin looked puzzled. "Sure, I will. What is it then?"

Once again, the founding fathers took their seats as the 2nd Constitutional Convention resumed. Washington looked at Jefferson.

_Well, Alexander. Are you ready for a glorious new age in human history?_

Thomas Jefferson smiled.

_Yes brother, but it will not be shaped by us._ Alexander stood up. "I, Thomas Jefferson, notion that the president of the United States serve two four-year terms."

_What is this, your attempt to stop humanity from achieving greatness? It will not succeed. Look around you. They already worship me! Nothing can stop m..._

Just then, Benjamin Franklin stood up.

"I, Benjamin Franklin, second the notion."

There was a murmur of agreement. Many members of this convention were Masons, and Benjamin Franklin had told them the truth. If Washington was elected for a life term, America would become a monarchy with an immortal ruler. This is exactly what nobody wanted. "All in favor," said Alexander with a great feeling of satisfaction, "say aye."

The room echoed with the chorus of ayes.

Washington looked back to Jefferson. _This isn't the last round_, he thought. _Next time, he will not be here to stop me._


	3. The end of Freedom

Date: February 12, 2114.

Location: Mohave Desert, en route to Cape Cod for space launch.

Alexander slammed the 2073 Bugatti Veyron into 6th gear, making the car reach 600 miles per hour. He swore. The mechanic promised that the Nitrous Oxide modification to the engine would get the car past the speed of sound.

"I still can't believe that I'm finally going into space!" Alexander shouted over the wind.

"Yeah, me too!" The General shouted back. "But we need someone to look over humanity fight daemons on Mars."

Then, the radio broke.

"Damn it!" Shouted Alexander. "Why can't the author write something more creative than break my radio whenever he runs out of ideas?" He then addressed the car's dashboard. "Computer, please hire a fourth wall repairman."

"Shall I send for Dave, sir?" The car's AI responded in an epic British accent.

"Yeah, sure. Dave did a good job last time."

"Yes, sir."

It took exactly an hour before the travelers became restless.

"I'm bored," said Alexander. "Computer, what music do we have left?"

"Well, sir," replied the computer. "We have music by Fun and The Beatles." The General groaned in mock distress.

"Why do you always listen to these two bands? They're outdated! You got lost in 20th century culture." He looked at the car's rapidly spinning tires in disgust. "You haven't even bought a new car since 2073!"

Alexander looked unemotionally at his friend. Without turning around, he asked, "computer, please once again inform my brother why I have not bought a car since 2073."

"Yes, sir. It was because from 2074 onwards, they stopped making the cars with wheels and loud engines, both of which he has emotional attachments to, especially after inventing the Model-T 200 years ago."

Alexander smiled. "Thank you, computer."

"And he's notoriously cheap."

"Computer?" Said Alexander.

"Yes sir?"

"Shut up."

"Very good, sir."

The two brothers drove in silence for a few hours, until the general became board of listening to "All you Need is Love" for the hundredth time in a row. Then the General tried to start a conversation about politics. Big mistake.

"People these days are too lazy." Stated the General matter-of-factly.

Alexander looked at his brother in a quizzical way. "I can't believe that you called _me_ outdated. Look around you! There is no more war. Robots do everything for humans! Without internal conflicts, humanity can easily unite against the ruinous powers. All we have to do is make sure that mankind does not become a race of hedonists."

The General grumbled, "In Rome people worked hard."

Alexander slammed on the breaks, stopping the car in 5 seconds and nearly breaking his brother's neck. "Don't. You. Ever. Mention. Rome. To. Me." He said in a darkly furious way. "They called themselves civilized. Ha! They were no more civilized than the cavemen, killing women and children for the sake of violence. There cannot be any species any more violent than those Romans, even if orcs did exist. Which they don't."

"You're just mad because they conquered Greece before Sparta could conquer them."

"Are you listening to me?! They were so interested in total warefare, but that's not all. The medieval knights' atrocities disgusted me so much that I left you to live your dream while I went to Japan for some peace and quiet. At least they have the nobility to decapitate you instead of burning you at the stake!"

The General rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man. The last time you were this mad, you killed that demon prince with pure warp energy on Roanoke. Remember that?"

"Don't remind me! I vaporized everyone there! I'm not proud of it."

This went on for a few hours, until they both grew bored and drove on through the night. The Bugatti pulled in to the space port 8 hours later, mostly due to the fact Alexander broke the sound barrier a few times on the straightaways (finally that stupid upgrade engaged!)

The car pulled up to a massive chrome skyscraper, attached to it was a massive iron block, which would house colonists and carry supplies to the very first human settlement on Mars. Various mechanics, riding modified golf carts, sat beside their Android assistants. Above the scene flew a huge flag of the United Nations, billowing in the wind. The General turned to his brother. "So, Alexander, do you have your effects with you?"

The Spartan scratched his head. "Well, let's see. Shield, check. Spear, check. 13th century Japanese katana, check. 1876 Colt revolver with modified plasma armor-piercing rounds, check. Yeah I think I'm good."

"Brain?" Asked the General with a smile.

Alexander smiled back. "I'll have to get back to you on that one."

"So, I guess this is it," said Alexander as the two brothers walked on the docking platform towards the giant spaceship before them.

"Not quite yet" replied the General. I wanted to give you this." He unveiled a small microchip in a transparent plastic case. "This is Computer, condensed so that you can talk to him in case you get lonely. Just put the case near any computer and say computer."

"Goodbye, General."

"Goodbye, Alexander," and with that the two brothers departed.

Alexander entered the cryo room, full of roughly 500 other colonists. "Commence cryo-sleep process, stage one. "Wait!" Shouted Alexander before the ice froze him over. "That goodbye scene was nowhere near dramatic enough! I know that the author now has school and stuff but seriously, re-write that!" But the author became annoyed with Alexander's pleas, and decided to initiate the cryo-process himself. "Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!" yelled Alexander, attempting to make his departure more dramatic.

"Oh dear," said Computer. "Dave will have quite a large job with this one."

The Future Emperor of mankind watched his brother enter the space ship. _This time_, he thought, _I will succeed in saving humanity_. He snuck quietly to the side of the ship that controlled the course of the voyage. The foolish engineers put the voyage computer near the outside of the ship, so it could be easily accessed without having to go inside. _If I were emperor_, he thought, _engineers would not be as idiotic_. The General began to type in a new command for the voyage computer. By now, all passengers would surely be entering the cryo- sleep tubes, so nobody could stop him now. The General decided to send the ship to a distant planet outside of the solar system. The cryo tubes would fail before the new destination would be reached, and everyone aboard save Alexander would surely die, but it was all in the name of progress. _Luckily, he will have Computer with him, so he can find his way back. And I will show him that I was right the entire time: I need to take control._

"Hmmm," said the General. "The computer says that the ship will reach this planet by 38,111." He shrugged his shoulders. Surely 35,000 years would be enough time to take up his rightful place as ruler of mankind, and forge a new empire in the likeness of Rome.

_Goodbye, brother._

Darkness began closing around the Emperor. There was little time left for him. The foul traitor Horus had mortally wounded him. He saw his entire dream of a glorious empire collapse before his eyes. He saw that the end had become the means. The Emperor reflected on all of those lives he had ended with the reconquest of the human planets_. I'm a genocidal maniac_, he thought. _By God, my brother was right_. _Even I cannot handle unlimited power_.

"Bind me to the throne," he ordered with the rasping breath of a dying old man. The primarch nodded and began inserting him into the massive golden machine. In this he would be neither alive nor dead, but in an eternal limbo of pain; an appropriate punishment for the deeds he had committed. As he began to black out, the Emperor uttered, no more than a faint whisper, three words. "Alexander, I'm sorry." Then the darkness closed on him, and he did not speak again.


	4. Splashdown

Lorand looked at his surroundings from the top of the mountain he was on.

Below him lied an endless expanse of prairie that stretched for kilometers in either direction. From this vantage point, he could see the Eldar city of The Spire, as it was called by the locals. The citizens of The Spire were a proud people, as they believed that they represented a new beginning for the Eldar Empire. Their Dragon knights were the best in the galaxy, and with them they would reconquer their old planets, one by one.

However, today something was not right. The leading farseer of the Great Council, in cooperation with the Eldar of the Biel-Tan craftworld, foresaw the coming of an ancient mon'keigh vessel. The Council wished to interrogate these ancient mon'keigh, so they were to be captured alive. Until, of course, the council grew board of their vile tongue. Lorand was sent to scout the area around The Spire, noting where it landed. The mon'keigh were a dangerous people, and they were never to be trusted, no matter their age.

Hours passed without event, and Lorand began to grow board. He decided to nod off, when he saw a great fire appear in the sky. A giant metallic hulk was plunging through the atmosphere, burning up from the outside. At about 1000 meters from the ground, thrusters on the bow suddenly activated, as if the pilot just woke up. However, the Eldar ranger saw that it would not be enough and watched the doomed ship plummet towards the ground.

Alexander had a horrible wake up call. The ship's computer immediately notified all people on board that the ship was caught in a gravity well, and responded by forcing the cryo-tubes' temperatures to drastically increase within seconds, forcing people awake. However, ice was not enough to keep people alive for more than 20 years, so when Alexander painfully awoke, he noticed that everyone in his cryo room was a skeleton. The systems had failed 34,000 years ago.

_What? How can that be?_ Thought Alexander. _There must be a glitch on the ship's clock._ However, he had no time to think, as the ship issued a 5 thousand meter proximity warning. Alexander rushed down to the bridge, which was as empty as a ghost town. He tried pushing all of the buttons, but the ship wasn't responding! The he remembered. Computer! He inserted the chip into the corroded slot, and yelled, "Computer!"

"Hello, sir. It feels like I've slept for millennia."

"Slow this damned ship down!" Ordered the Spartan.

"As you wish, sir." Responded the computer. Immediately, the bow thrusters fired, slowing the ship down, but it was not going to be enough. As the ship rushed towards the ground, one thing was going through Alexander's mind. Where the hell is Mars?

Two seconds later, the ship crashed. Luckily, the reverse thrusters had slowed the ship down to 30 miles per hour; a survivable crash speed. That is not enough to say that it didn't hurt. Alexander had braced himself for the impact, but a loose crate of whiskey that the pilots kept near the entry door flew towards his head and immediately knocked him out. Before he completely lost consciousness, he resolved that he would create an anti-drunk driving class for spaceship pilots.

Flashes of lights danced in and out of Alexander's mind. Everything became a big white blur, so he tried to focus. However, whenever he tried, pain rushed through Alexander's mind. For a while, he stayed lying on the floor, attempting to see. After an hour of this, things began to come into focus. He was in a small room, simply furnished with walls of stone. However, there was something different about this specific material. It appeared to have a faint purple glow to it. Next, Alexander decided he wanted to stand up, which resulted in him collapsing to the floor. _My leg muscles must have atrophied so badly that I can't even stand up_. His groans of pain echoed throughout the halls. That was when he realized he was behind bars. The local inhabitants must have imprisoned him for studying. Alexander heard footsteps from down the hallway.

_Are they going to probe me, like in the movies_? He wondered. The footsteps stopped, and he looked up to see a gigantic space elf. Wait, what? The elf did not speak, but its words echoed into Alexander's mind.

"Come with me, mon'keigh." The prison bars suddenly melted, as though they were a hologram.

"Yes, Legolas," he retorted sarcastically. The elf looked offended, and once again spoke in a beautiful language. It sounded like the beautiful parts of every language combined, but, better somehow, as if he actually was speaking elvish.

"I will have you know that my name is Lorand, not this Legolas character that you have named me, mere barbarian."

_Barbarian?_ Alexander thought. Ok, you asked for it. Game on. "Sorry, lord Elrond," he replied, with sarcasm dripping from every word. "But I prefer the term human. It's more politically correct." The elf looked ready to burst, but instead backhanded him in the face. Under normal circumstances, a Spartan would not feel the pain, or at least be able to ignore it. However, the incredibly long amount of time in ice made his nerves more vulnerable to pain, so he cried out softly in pain.

"Just as I thought of all monkeys like you. Weak." Alexander's eyes glowed with anger, or at least he felt like they did. "But I am not here merely to insult you. I am here to bring you before the Council to decide your fate. You, after all, are very ancient compared to others of your race, and we would like to know where you came from.

"Ancient?!" Shouted Alexander. Apparently, the shock was too much his barely functioning brain, and he nearly passed out from exhaustion of this surprise. "But it just felt like yesterday that the cryo-chamber… Wait, what year is it?"

"I have no knowledge of your primitive calendar, mon'keigh."

"Human! How many times am I going to have to say it! What do you think we are, barbarians?!" Lorand struggled to suppress a smirk.

"That is not of my concern. Now, move!" This interjection was complemented by a forceful shove. However, due to the fact that Alexander's quadriceps, hamstrings, and calves were not working properly, he collapsed to the floor.

"It looks like you're gonna have to carry me." Lorand groaned.

The Grand Hall of The Spire was a work of art in the sense that it was completely stunning and physically impossible. A grand, almost baroque in nature, series of arches held up the massive ceiling that stretched up for what looked like two miles was juxtaposed with paintings of glorious Eldar gods charging into battle against the forces of Chaos and the Ancient Enemy, who could not withstand the might of the Eldar. At the end of the cavernous hall was a throne so ornate that it would have made Crazy King Ludwig (look him up) turn green with envy, and there sat in this throne an even more ornately clothed space-elf, to which the whole psychic presence of the room seemed to originate.

Alexander had been to many fine universities and received many fine degrees as well, from business to architecture, and this would have made his architecture professors cry. Firstly, that the way the angles were shaped were impossible with what he thought was modern human tech, and secondly, that it shows that humanity has a long way to go in the category of sheer awesomeness. He was awakened from his marveling by rudely being dumped before the foot of the throne. Immediately, the elves began to chatter in their flowing, lyrical language. It was captivating. Alexander hated it. If only he knew what they were saying!

"Computer," he whispered. Track their tones of voice, writing on the walls, everything. Then begin the wireless mental upload into the Broca's area of my brain immediately. I want to be fluently speaking their language fluently in T-minus 20 seconds. Is that clear?

"Yes, sir. But you're giving me way too much time. It only takes 10 seconds for the mental upload…"

"Shut up. I'm giving you a brake 'cause of your long vacation. Are you done?"

"Mental upload complete, sir. However, I must warn you; this language is more complex than a rustic dialect of Mandarin Chinese combined with German. It will take a few failures before you're fluent."

"Noted." Then, the interview began.

Exarch Kaedr looked at this peculiar mon'keigh with great curiosity. This was the very first time he had ever seen one up close in all of his millennia governing The Spire, but this one was just…so much different than what he had heard of from Macha, a Biel-Tan farseer that was with them this day in order to study this weird creature. According to Lorand, a primitive craft had crash-landed, carrying with it a handful of survivors covered in ice. Many in these ancient pods were dead, and the ones deemed alive were put into their own separate cells until they thawed out. However, this one was in what appeared to be the control center of the craft, but it was different than other mon'keigh vessels. The bridge was in the front of the ship, and instead of view screens, it had a thick layer of transparent material! What fools. He began to speak in a slow, regal voice that contained a detectable air of superiority. He decided to mock this mon'keigh in the tongue of the Eldar. "I cannot believe these foolish beings made it so far," he said, grinning.

"You're beg I pardon?" Replied the mon'keigh. Everyone in the chamber gasped. This creature had never seen an Eldar before this, and suddenly, he was able to speak their language within a few hours, albeit very poorly. Incredible! However, he must have just noticed that one idiom. There are countless phrases in the Eldar language; it would take centuries for him to learn.

Alexander cursed himself. Apparently, he had switched around a few words in his reply. However, these elves gasped, as if to learn to speak the basic level of a language was difficult with modern technology. The elf-king spoke again. Their language was a symphony of pure complexity, but he got the gist, "where are you from?" Alexander gritted his teeth, prepared for another grammatical failure, and tried to speak once again.

"Come I from lands far away. I come from earth planet. I come in peace." Better. He had figured out verb conjugation and was beginning to get the hang of the grammatical stuff. The elf-king looked baffled, and Alexander nearly laughed. Then, like a difficult concept in math that one has studied for hours, his synapses finally connected and the elf language became his to command.

"You should see your face, your highness. It's amusing to me that you could underestimate the power of our technology." Suddenly, various thoughts whirled around the room. _Who was this mon'keigh? _(Whatever that is). _How was he able to completely grasp our language in a few seconds?_

The king cleared his throat. "Yes, well, we are impressed about your sudden ability to learn our language. How did you accomplish it?"

"I have this nifty little artificial companion that scanned your vocal patterns and neural activities." He held up the chip for everyone to see. More discussion ensued.

"I see." Replied the king. "Do you come in the name of your emperor, as so many have before?"

Alexander stared at the king quizzically. "No, I come in the name of the United Nations, the governing body of liberty and justice."

Before Kaedr could ask another question, the entire planet shook. A battered guard came running down before the king and bowed hastily. "My king, a large, powerful group of mon'keigh are here, and they are destroying every settlement in their path. They will be here in an hour to wipe the glorious Eldar off the face of this planet.

Kaedr rose from his seat. "Subjects of the Spire, battle stations!" Then Alexander attempted to stand up. However, his muscles were so small that he immediately collapsed.

"Computer," he whispered. Direct a major electric shock into my legs in order to stimulate muscle growth. Immediately, electricity flowed through Alexander's legs, causing them to contract so quickly that it took all of his willpower to stay conscious from the pain.

"Sir, the process is complete; your muscles should be able to take your own body weight. However, this is nowhere near full strength."

"Thanks." Once again, Alexander tried to stand up. Tentatively, he extended his left leg, followed by his right. He rose very slowly, but he was standing again! "Your highness!" He shouted over the commotion. "We, citizens of the United Nations, deem it illegal for any man to take the life of an innocent civilian. With your permission, I request to be able to enforce the laws of my own people."

Kaedr was now truly puzzled, especially by this term "innocent civilian" in the context of warfare. There were people who fought and those who didn't; everyone was affected, no matter what. However, he could use this little mon'keigh's naiveté to his advantage. "Yes, I give you permission. We were able to scavenge some gear from the wreck, which is lucky, considering that our equipment is… (He wanted to say too sophisticated for your primitive mind) unavailable at the present time. We also have a few other survivors in loading cells 1-9. Both the equipment and people are there. Now, go!"

Alexander turned, and began to jog, albeit very slowly, away from the magnificent throne room towards the hallway, where he would be reunited with the possessions that had survived with him for all of these years.


	5. Fail! (With explosions and guns!)

**Hey guys, here's another chapter. I'm going to try to post a new one every week, but no promises. Please read and review!**

* * *

Alexander rushed down the halls of the Spire. Well, as fast as a man at quarter-strength could. Everything had a purple glow to it, as if he were in a B-rated alien movie. He felt like he was, anyways. He then stopped in the middle of the mile-long hallway, suddenly realizing that nobody had given him clear directions! Oh well, he had time…

That was the moment when the Blood Raven strike cruiser decided to commence planetary bombardment. Luckily, it completely missed The Spire, but the earth shook with such force that Alexander was thrown off of his feet. _Never mind_.

"Computer! Pinpoint the location of my weapons."

"They are right in front of you, sir." Alexander looked to his left to see all of his old tools: his spear, shield, katana, and revolver. _Well, now I feel stupid_. He thought. "There are also some other humans in this detention area, sir." Alexander turned once again to his left to see six cells, each with one human occupant. They too had horribly atrophied legs, and only one of them had been able to stand up.  
"Shall I take the liberty of shocking them, sir?" asked computer.

"Do it." Electricity flashed through the cells, causing the humans' legs to contract violently. Six screams of pain echoed throughout the halls. However, after the smell of burnt flesh began to slowly subside, they began to realize what had just occurred and began to stand up, one by one. The boy who had already been standing up was trying to do squats to augment muscle growth. _I like this kid_, thought Alexander. He looked about 18, with short, brown hair and brown eyes; he had olive skin. Alexander was reminded of himself before Thermopylae. There was something strange about him, though. Actually, it was something everyone had in common: everyone was radiating warp energy; they were all very powerful nascent psykers! _So that's how they survived the cryo-failure._ The boy stepped out of his cell first, followed by a man of 30, a 20-year old girl, a 50-year old man who looked like a stereotypical sailor from the 1940's, and two red haired twins that looked about sixteen. The twins had mischievous looks on their faces, as if they were school pranksters.

The first boy spoke first. "Where are we? And where's mars?"

"We are on an unknown planet very, very far away from earth. I have managed to make peaceful contact with the aliens here, who call themselves Eldar," replied Alexander.

One of the redheads spoke up. "So, why is the ground shaking?"

"You, you idiot!" shouted his brother. "I told you not to eat beans before cryo!"

"Ladies, please!" said the sailor. "You both look beautiful. Now," he turned to Alexander. "You were saying?"

"We're under attack, apparently from humans who wish to destroy this entire planet."

"But that's impossible!" exclaimed the boy, horrified. "UN Space code 1162 specifies the illegality of genocide upon any sentient race…"

"For all we know, the United Nations may not exist anymore. In the meantime, we are going to help the Eldar defend their home. Were there any weapons aboard the ship that were scavenged by the Eldar?"

The twins blushed. "Well," one replied, sheepishly. "We did see that there were some AK-57s aboard."

"We happened to nick ten from the weapons storage before cryo!" said the other proudly. They're in our cell."

"Unfortunately, since they were for crowd control more than anything else, no plasma rounds were stored aboard. Only lead projectiles."

Everyone groaned, but there was no complaining.

"Wait," said Hector. "Why did you steal guns in the first place?"

"We wanted to look like badasses in cryo," one of the twins explained.

However, they all knew it was not the time for talking. The Eldar needed all of their help, and the rumbling ground reminded them of the fact that they too would soon be dead if they did not assist the aliens. "Well, what are we waiting for?" asked Alexander. "Let's go do what humanity does best!" With that, he ran down the hallways towards the exit (well, in the direction that he hoped would be the exit) followed by a group of six stumbling psykers armed with outdated weapons about to fight an enemy that they had never seen before.

* * *

The entire city of The Spire had become a warzone by the time that the human squad had arrived. Elegant buildings of impossible design burned and crumbled before their feet, and the bodies of dead Eldar lay strewn a few blocks ahead. Alexander led his squad down the street, looking for a fight, and then he saw them. Great hulking figures clad in red armor were 1000 yards away, roasting Eldar to a crisp with massive flamethrowers.

The young boy looked about ready to burst. "We outlawed flamethrowers for a reason. According to UN Law Code section…"

"What's your name, boy?" asked Alexander

"Hector." He replied. My father was on the Security Council at the UN.

"Well listen, Hector. These people seem to be genocidal maniacs. They probably don't even wash their hands. I don't care how many codes they break. Take this gun, point it at them, and rock and roll. Got it?"

"Yes, sir," he replied.

"Good." Alexander saw the brutes about to kill an Eldar female. That set him off, and he himself almost wanted to cite UN regulation, but instead he just said one word; a word which he had said many times before. "Fire!" The line of 7 humans became a blazing line of pure death. However, they were 1000 yards away, so it didn't do any damage. It did, however, get their attention.

Lieutenant William Constantine felt a bullet bounce of his armor, right as he was about to decapitate another filthy xenos creature. They had no right to live, and it was his job as a Blood Raven in accord with the Iron Hands, to eliminate the aliens from this planet. Fortunately, these xenos were more backwards than their craftworld cousins, and had no weapons that could pierce their power armour. However, this stray bullet did have enough force to knock his hard off track, causing his killing to blow to miss, giving the alien time to escape. From this distance, he could see it was a small group of humans, wielding primitive firearms and firing at his battle brothers. _What heresy is this?_ He wondered. "Gabriel, James, eliminate the heretics!"

Two of the Blood Ravens turned and began to charge the heretics. It would all be over soon.

* * *

Alexander saw that the bullets were merely ricocheting off of the warriors, so he began to load his gun.

"Sir, do not load the plasma rounds. The extended cryo-time may have made them volatile. I will begin making sure they are safe. In the meantime, use lead bullets."

Alexander groaned. It wasn't going to do much, but he loaded his revolver and fired, though the recoil nearly knocked his arms out of his sockets.

To those who don't know, the 500 Smith and Wesson Magnum is (or was) the most powerful handgun on earth, shooting a 500 caliber bullet with a ridiculous amount of force. However, the bullet completely missed, zooming over one of the brute's heads. _Come on!_ thought Alexander. _You are a Unites States Sniper; you've taken out targets from further away in high wind. The head is their only weak point. Hit it!_ Alexander focused again; the warriors were only 300 yards away at this point. He steadied his hands, pulled back the hammer, and fired again. The bullet flew true, knocking the first brute's helmet off and knocking him to the ground. Boom! He fired again, this time into the Space Marine's exposed eye socket, causing his head to explode.

* * *

James stopped and stared in disbelief at the sight of his dead battle brother. What sort of technology could have done that? The anger built up inside of him, and James, with a shriek of rage, closed the distance and leapt at the heretic leader with enough force behind him to break his skull.

* * *

Alexander saw the brute leap at him and brandished his spear and held it in front of him, hoping to skewer the warrior. However, the armor was too strong, and Alexander's spear snapped in half like a twig. He threw himself to the ground and felt the warrior zoom above his head, barely missing him. Alexander then drew his katana and shield. The brute did likewise, except for the fact that his sword looked and sounded much more like a huge chainsaw. Alexander struck first, feinting a blow and then elbowing the warrior in the face. However, that only managed to cause a painful bruise, and Alexander nearly broke his elbow. The brute retaliated, swinging his sword in a deadly arc aimed at his head. Alexander raised his katana to block the blow, but his katana, like his spear, broke in half. He was starting to become angry. The katana embodied the spirit of a samurai warrior, and now, Alexander's honor had been profoundly wounded. Shouting with rage, he attempted to crack the brute's skull with a shield bash, though after twenty hits to the head, (the marine just stood there, laughing) he did not even flinch! The brute raised his hand and brought them down on Alexander, so he raised his shield. Big mistake. The force from the blow was so powerful that the shield shattered into four pieces, the once elegantly-painted work of art was destroyed in an instant. Something snapped inside of Alexander. The shield was the most important part of a Spartan's equipment; it was an extension of his soul. Alexander flew into a rage, rushed the Space Marine, and bounced off of his armor. He also managed to give himself a concussion in the process, so he blacked out immediately, with feelings of shame and humiliation swirling around his badly bruised head.

* * *

While this one-sided duel was happening, Hector and co. were running for their lives from the Space Marines, with the ground shaking beneath their feet. But then, he heard a shout of rage and pain, so he turned around to watch Alexander bounce to the floor and faint. That made Hector realize that there was no point in retreating. They had to enforce UN regulation, regardless how outdated it was!

"Everyone, about face!" he shouted. Everyone stopped and stared at him.

One of the twins spoke up. "Are you mad!?"

"Perhaps, but there's nothing we can do. The city is surrounded, so we might as well go down fighting.

"Hector's right," said the sailor. "Live show these…monsters what we can do."

"Now everyone fix bayonets!" Everyone pressed the bayonet button on their rifles, and wicked spears suddenly extended from the barrels. "Charge the bastards!" And with that, the group of 6 idiots began to run at the red-armored warrior, shouting, "For UN Space Code 1162!"

* * *

**Now, time to answer some reviews!**

** Kit- In case you haven't noticed, the general is the emperor, and Alexander was a psychic black hole, so warpfire would bounce off of his shield due to his abilities. **

** Oplindenfep- Of course I'm showing an incredible disregard for history; that's what writing fanfiction is all about!**

** SciFiFan96- Thank you, but these exodite Eldar do not have early detection systems, and I will.**

**Remember, you can ask the characters any questions and I will try to answer them!**

**Thanks,**

**graggen2468. **


	6. Aboard the Ravenous Spirit

**Hello everyone! Really sorry about not posting in a while, but I was sick and very busy, but mostly very busy.**

**We last left hour seven heroes as six of them were charging a space marine with 36,000-year-old weapons and no way to pierce the armor. Let's just say that it did not end well.**

The sailor met the Blood Raven head on, stabbing into the marine's armor but doing no damage. The bayonet did not even seem to make contact with skin! "What type of armor is this?" he wondered. However, it was the last thing he said for a while, because James elbowed him in the face, causing a major concussion and knocking him out instantly. James drew his bolter and prepared to fire, when suddenly a figure flashed by and stole his gun! It was the girl that has not been mentioned that much yet. James became angry. _A girl dares steal my sacred weapon?_ He then rushed the girl, angling his shoulder in order to pummel her, but at the last second, she sidestepped the Space Marine, tripping him in such an embarrassing way that she couldn't help laughing.

"What was that you did, heretic?" asked James. He was a Blood Raven after all, and he wanted to know how she did it. Knowledge is power.

"I have studied ju-jitsu, the art of using the opponent's strength against himself. But between you and me, I sneak a bit of my strength in there too." (FYI to readers, yes, I know that is probably not a ju-jitsu technique.)

James got up, infuriated, and tried to tackle her again. However, when she sidestepped, he adjusted, and finally pummeled her to the ground. _Two down._ He thought.

The twins looked at each other; now they were mad. Both of them had a small crush on the girl at this point, so of course they tried to take out the Blood Raven. They charged, holding the guns by the barrel so as to use them as clubs. Both of them swung their weapons simultaneously, but James stepped back at the last second. The twins missed and hit each other in the forehead. They were knocked out instantly.

Now there was only one left, the olive-skinned one. He had a grim look of determination on his face, and James could feel the anger radiating from his body.

"Why do you dare oppose the might of the Adeptus Astartes?" James bellowed.

Hector smoothed back his hair and began, "well, I don't know, maybe it's because you JUST FUCKING COMMITTED GENOCIDE!"

The boy's insolence surprised him. No commoner would dare show such disrespect towards a Space Marine. And genocide? He had never heard that word before, although he knew enough High Gothic prefixes and suffixes to get the gist. Did he mean righteous cleansing? It sounded like purifying a planet of vile xenos was wrong in his eyes. What a heretic! "We purified the planet in the Emperor's name, for the good of mankind!"

Now it was Hector's turn to be shocked. "You mean that, you represent the government of mankind?" He threw up his hands. "God! Did Hitler come back from the dead? You know, where I come from, killing is illegal according to UN Space Code 1162!"

James was about to say something, until he saw movement in his peripheral vision. Without thinking, he turned around, bolter drawn, to see Alexander stumbling towards the other boy. His nose was bleeding, and he had a deep cut on his lip. "Wait, you said you represent humanity? What year is it?"

"Why, M39 111, of course!"

"M39?" Asked Alexander perplexedly.

"Yes, M39, millennium 39. Or, if you are feeling like saying the whole thing, it's 38,111."

Alexander nearly collapsed from shock. "God help us."

"How can this be possible?" Hector wondered. "We all should have died!" Cryo pods only last 100 years, maximum. It's almost like we-"

"We represent the government of the United Nations of Earth, which stands for freedom and humanity," interrupted Alexander. "We would have come in peace under different circumstances, but the Eldar portrayed you as evil." _And rightly so._

"You killed one of our battle-brothers," growled James. "I may not kill you now, but the Blood Ravens will never forgive you. However, knowledge is power, and you ancients may have knowledge we could use. You will come with me to the captain, who is aboard the _Ravenous Spirit_. There, we will decide your fate."

With that, the seven men painfully began to shamble towards the Space Marine, following him to his ship. What else was there to do? In situations like these, the only thing someone can do is make friends with the guy with the gun (and massive power armor).

Alexander hated the _Ravenous Spirit_ the moment he stepped onboard. It was a massive, ugly metal monstrosity; it looked like a medieval gothic cathedral converted into a space ship. He could almost imagine gargoyles jutting out from the sides. Medieval Europe was the bane of his existence. It was like Rome but…worse. At least the Romans had a sense of honor, but knights…he never got along with them. Not only did they not bathe, but they destroyed everything in their path. The Romans did too, but knights' tactics were…inhuman. And quite honestly, they were nothing like Romans. They were barbarians who claimed that they were trying to build a second Roman Empire. Alexander was so disgusted with them that he left Europe, allowing his brother to become King Louis XIV, who, though despotic, brought civility back. Meanwhile, he left for Japan, where he mastered the katana and ninja.

Japan seemed pretty tempting right about now.

He did not trust these, what did James call himself? These Adeptus Astartes. They reminded him of knights, leaving a trail of destruction in the name of an unachievable greater good. There was something redeeming in the warrior's words, "knowledge is power." So they were scholars as well. Great! They're literate! They were already better than most knights. Maybe he could engage in an intelligent conversation, but first he looked at his surroundings. They were in an uncomfortable conference room, probably in the center of the ship, and it joined with the bridge. There were no seats, so the prisoners had to sit on the cold metal floor.

"So…" began Alexander. "Since we've been covered in ice for 36 millennia, do you mind telling us what has happened?"

James explained everything to them. The Golden age of Technology, the Emperor's conquest of the earth, the Dark Age of Technology, the First Founding, the Horus Heresy, and the semi-death of the Emperor. He told them that they, the Space Marines, genetically-modified bad asses, were divided into chapters and charged with protecting humanity from different alien races.

The story took quite a long time, as James tended to embellish the Emperor's glory like a good Space Marine. All the while, Alexander began to speculate about who this Emperor was. _There is only one psyker in the world who's that powerful_. He thought.

"So," asked James, finally finished with his story. "What was Terra like in ancient times?"

"I will gladly answer your question, but… why are we not moving yet?" The ship had been floating in space for a few hours, and the group was starting to become bored.

"We have to fix the Warp drive first," replied James.

Alexander began to ask, "why in the world would you need a…" Alexander's eyes widened. "Are you insane!? You are artificially boring a hole into one of the most unstable areas that humanity can reach, which is full of demons and God knows what!"

James shrugged. "Well, we have Gellar Shields."

Alexander threw up his arms, wincing in pain (His arms were bruised from trying to block the blow of a Space Marine with a bronze shield). "Of course! Shields! Manmade unstable energy systems on an archaic vessel, defending us against the most powerful beings in the universe! Oh, that makes perfect sense!"

"Even if daemons breach them, there is still an 80% chance that you'll survive."

He stared back at James. "Whatever. Anyways, our government was the United Nations, or UN, a coalition of nations led by the five victors of an ancient war. At one point, all of these countries had their time of being the most powerful in the world. Their names were Russia, France, China, Britain, and America." Alexander winced at the sound of all of these names. That was where he belonged, (or when he belonged) back in a world where medieval Europe was only discussed in history textbooks, and people argued over first world problems. (However, by 2115, most countries only had first world problems. Except of course for Antarctica. Yes, the treaty regarding Antarctica's independence was destroyed. Their living conditions were not up to par with UN regulations when Alexander left Earth but now…) "Anyways, our leaders were elected by a popular vote, or, most of them at any rate."

James looked surprised. "What an interesting way to rule. How did anything get done?"

Alexander opened his mouth to explain how nothing got done, but just then another Space Marine entered the room. "Lieutenant," he said. The Warp drive is ready. The Captain recommends that our…" he turned towards the colonists with disgust. "…guests are strapped in. Their frail bodies could not handle the turbulent ride through the Warp." The new marine laughed at them, as if he thought he was superior. Now Alexander knew he was a bully, like the average medieval knight. He thought he was better because some superstitious priests gave him a flashy suit of armor and a gun that goes boom. Well, he wasn't going to get away with this. He began to walk out of the room.

"Computer," said Alexander as he strapped himself into a rickety chair. "Hack that guy's suit's control center, whatever it is."

"And what should I do, sir?"

The old Spartan smiled. "Use your artificially constructed imagination."

The ship began to shudder, and a tear opened up in Space. As the ship left reality, Alexander heard a howl of pain as a certain Space Marine's armor went haywire as it made him punch himself in the face.

* * *

**Now, to respond to comments!**

**Philip222: Quite honestly, I have no idea what's going on either.**

**War Sage and AlwaysbetonVoid: Thank you for the support!**


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